Chasing the Shadows
by DarKhajiit
Summary: Beyond the colorful land of Equestria lies the Outlands, a dangerous land ruled by an oppressive band of nobles known only as the Ministry. Shadow Chaser, a test subject-turned-assassin, finds himself in the middle of a war of subterfuge and secrets. As he attempts to defuse the coming endgame, Shadow is constantly reminded of a single truth: Freedom demands a heavy price.
1. In Like a Lion

**This story will contain none of the Mane Six, and almost none of the known characters. This story will be bloody and enter some dark territories. You have been warned. Also, I tend to have some eccentric tastes that may or may not manifest in this story. Buckle up, this might get weird.**

* * *

A happier person than I once said that the path to freedom lies in contentment. Someone probably wiser than they replied that the path to contentment lies in ignorance. I won't presume to know what freedom truly is, but I've had more than enough experience on the matter to influence my opinion. Many say it's a feeling, a sense of elation, usually following some great accomplishment or personal milestone, or as menial as the joy of having the weekend to oneself. Others claim that it is the ability to make their own choices. Most people say it simply means not being a slave, forced to undergo strenuous, overbearing labor against one's will. I am none of these people.

In a world controlled by fear, many are content to live under the scornful gaze of a society that uses, manipulates, and directs them like pawns to its whims. Those who aren't are taken under the veil of night. The ones who escape notice rarely stay that way, and are hunted like animals. I think what the wise pony meant is that no matter how far you run, no matter how hard you fight, there will always be someone trying to bend you to their will, forcing you under their thumb. The only way to rid yourself of them is to pretend they don't exist, and I'd rather be dead than live like that.

It was never my decision to live in a place like this. It was never my choice to be abducted by a corrupt government and used as a lab rat for their sick experiments. When an organization of freedom fighting extremists flew me out of my cage, put a blade in my hoof, and told me to kill others for the sake of a better world, I never had a chance to say no.

Eventually, I just gave up on freedom.

* * *

A tense silence had fallen over the room during my ruminations, which bothered me almost as much the statement that caused it. After shaking myself of unwanted thoughts, I glared at the stallion before me and pressed the blade deeper into his neck.

"What did you say?" Despite the menace in my tone and the threat of a severed jugular, the mogul held my stare with an unnervingly calm one of his own as he repeated himself.

"I can free you." He pointed a gray hoof at my chest, where a black portal sat emblazoned upon my heart, uncovered by my armored vest. His maroon eyes focused on my face, screaming without a word that he pitied me, like one pities a fly missing its wings. I almost felt insulted. I smirked, though given the situation it probably looked more like a sneer.

"I think you have me mistaken for an idiot," I replied, never once breaking eye contact. I couldn't notice that he was doing exceptionally well for his age. Small wrinkles were visible around his eyes and his red mane and tail were streaked with silver, but he bore it with the grace of a pony in his prime. The infuriatingly placate stallion smiled softly, giving me an almost fatherly look.

"I speak the truth, child. My associates and I have been researching your...condition," my heart tingled slightly as he hesitated. "We believe we have found a solution. If you would just lower your weapon and give me your word and that you will leave that pointless organization, we could work something out." He leaned in slightly, despite the action leaving a shallow wound in his neck. "I could use somepony as strong as you. You're a rarity, even in a world like ours. I'd hate to see such talent go to waste." He was leaning with both forelegs on his desk, wearing what I'm sure he thought was a convincing smile. Several droplets of blood fell from his neck onto the wood between his hooves. I noted with irritation that some of it was trailing down the length of my sword. I sighed deeply and removed it from his neck. With the apparent threat out of his way, the mogul cleared his throat. "Now then-"

I brought it back around in a wide arc faster than he could react. His eyes widened in shock and his throat split open, showering us both with his blood. He stumbled back into his chair, clutching at the ghastly crimson grin I had carved across his neck as it spewed his essence all over himself. After a brief moment of struggling, he slumped in his seat and closed his eyes for the last time.

Now that the easy part was over with, it was time to make my getaway. With a quick twirl in my hoof, I placed Negotiation in the sheath strapped to my back, over my vest. I walked around the desk to get a closer look out of the window behind the dead stallion's chair. It was dark outside, but the streetlights illuminated enough to show me what I needed to see. The window was several floors above street level, no problem for what I was about to do. The street was empty for the most part, save for some stray garbage and a few parked motorcarriages. One vehicle, in particular, was parked right under the window I was leaning out of, its dark exterior nearly invisible in the shadows the streetlights couldn't reach, though my unnatural eyesight picked out its shape easily. No one else would notice anything out of place about this particular vehicle, besides perhaps its sleeker form. The driver's side window was down, and from it came a familiar fragrance. Somepony was eating cinnamon sticks.

_Someone was eating _my _cinnamon sticks_.

I huffed in irritation and lifted myself up so that I was balanced on the windowsill. I tensed my back legs and pushed off, launching myself into the air and landing on the roof of the carriage with a loud bang. I leaned over the side to peer through the driver's window, coming face to face with an indigo pegasus. Her ruby eyes were as wide as dinner plates and she paled at the sight of me. Several brownish sticks poked out of the side of her mouth, and she held one in her hoof. I gave her my best death glare. With the haste normally associated with death threats she finished what was in her mouth and gave me a grin stuck halfway between sheepish and terrified.

"S-Sorry, Shadow...I, uh, I got a little hungry...while I was...waiting for you," she managed to stammer out. I snatched the treat from her hoof and stuffed it into my mouth. With just the right amount of righteous indignation I strutted to the passenger's side, lowering myself and sliding in the through window she had lowered for me.

"Sparkdrift," I started as I settled into my seat, "what have I said about eating my candy?" The mare pouted for a moment, then sighed.

"Under the risk of severed limbs, broken bones, third degree burns, nightmares, severe nausea, and disembowelment, no one is allowed to touch your sweets," she answered with a ghost of a smirk. I nodded appreciatively.

"Good." I gave the street another look, making sure we were still in the clear. "Let's get out of here. Don't want to be here when the Hounds show up."

My driver gave me a single nod and procured a key from her two-toned violet and red mane. She inserted it into the ignition and the carriage roared to life.

"You really need to get a pair of saddlebags," I commented, right before she slammed her hoof on the pedal, nearly throwing me out of my seat. I resituated myself as we took off at a blistering speed, muttering curses to myself, and rolled my window up to prevent further mishaps.

In addition to being sleeker than the average motorcarriage and harder to notice at night, Sparkdrift's model is faster, easier to handle and much quieter. This is both ideal for me and a terrifying experience if your driver is an easily excitable pegasus who has a habit of getting arrested for street racing in private government sectors. I'm not saying Sparks is a bad driver, in fact she is better than most. She just doesn't do nice and slow. And I think she skipped the driver etiquette part of the manual. She is about as subtle as the flaming wing marked on her flank, and only slightly less flamboyant. Sparkdrift might not get you there unscathed, but...she'll get you there.

"So…" Sparkdrift glanced at me, scanning my face and torso. I almost scolded her for taking her eyes off the road. "...you're covered in blood. Did Garnet give you much trouble?" I looked down at myself, remembering that I still had the old stallion's blood on me. It speckled my snow white barrel and some of my armor, and I could feel it coagulating in my face fur.

"Not really," I replied, scratching my cheek. "He talked a lot though. Said some crap about 'freeing' me from…" I gestured to the area in front of my chest, "you know." I opened the glove compartment, removing a conveniently placed rag and quickly wiping myself down with it.

Sparkdrift's eyes widened briefly. "Oh. Sounds like a short lived conversation." She suddenly took a sharp left down a different street, throwing me against my window and reminding me why it was a good idea to close it.

I gave a halfhearted nod as I recovered, suddenly too preoccupied to complain as Garnet's offer echoed in my mind. I had had always believed that I couldn't be 'cured'. I had been told as much on the operating table. To think that somepony had the means to undo a theoretically irreversible procedure was enough to make my brain itch-and my heart burn. Come to think of it, how Garnet had even come across such sensitive information was beyond me. _I_ didn't even have all the answers, and I was once in the middle of it all. The program was top-secret, even among most of the peons working in genetic engineering, and so closely guarded that information leakage was nigh impossible. Something else was at play here.

My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of wailing sirens in the distance behind us. I glanced through the back window, satisfied that we had put enough distance between us and the crime scene. "Good thing we left when we did," I remarked to my driver. "I really don't like dealing with Hounds."

Sparkdrift made a clicking noise with her tongue. "You wouldn't be you if you did," she replied. "Or any lower-middle class citizen of the Outlands for that matter."

"Fair enough," I conceded. "So where is Code Blue hiding out now? Probably some seedy bar or somesuch, hm?"

Sparkdrift gave a low chuckle. "You're not too far off. He's stationed at Mousetrapp."

"Mousetrapp," I echoed. "Never heard of it. What is it?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, which usually meant she was hiding something from me, or found something amusing and couldn't wait to tell me what it was. Whatever it was, I braced myself. "Well, it _is_ a bar…"

Oh, so I was right. For a second there, I was a little worried.

"...slash strip club."

I froze for a moment, then shook my head and coughed. "...What?"

The pegasus licked her lips nervously, though I could see the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It was Hollow's idea."

I raised an eyebrow. "And by 'Hollow's idea' you mean-"

"She decided to wander off and Blue followed her." I fell back into my seat and sighed. I could already feel the headache forming behind my eyes...

Several minutes later we arrived at a building that dwarfed all the others around it. It was two stories high and at least three times the width of the establishments unfortunate enough to reside on either side of it. Pink and purple neon lights danced about its surface, carving wavy designs among its midsection and promising cheap drinks and private dances. A large sign on the top read '_Mousetrapp_' followed by an image of a mouse scurrying in circles. A steady beat resounded in its vicinity, no doubt the work of some washed out disc jockey who wasn't sure how they ended up playing electronic music for a strip joint.

Sparkdrift pulled up behind a red motorcarriage and turned off the ignition, placing the key back in her mane. We stepped out into the chill, and my heart began to pound anxiously. Much to my annoyance, my hooves began to move unconsciously in rhythm with the music, which grew louder the closer we approached. We pushed open the double doors, and immediately my headache increased tenfold. A vile combination of sweat, perfume, and alcohol assaulted my nose. The room was dimly lit, accentuated by colorful strobe lights that drifted across the club and threatened to send me into shock. The beat I had been hearing became a gloomy electronic song that was soft enough keep customers in the mood, yet loud enough to slowly drive me insane. My enhanced senses were not doing me any favors.

We hadn't even taken five steps into the club when a very drunk mare walked blindly into me. The impact barely jarred me, but the intoxicated unicorn fell heavily onto her rump. Her equally drunk friend sneered at me.

"Why dun you watch where you're going, jackash." The stench of alcohol on her breath was so strong it caused my nose to curl.

"Ugh, I think you meshed up my makeup," the unicorn complained as she stood back up. A quick glance at her face told me that her makeup was ruined long before she walked into me. She shot me a bleary-eyed glare. "You big jerk."

Her friend cocked her head at me. "Whaddya doin' shtanding around, you creep?" A crooked grin formed on her muzzle. "You're shupposhed to be in there."

She pointed to a door on the far side of the room. The neon sign above it read 'For the Ladies' in flashing blue letters. I didn't need any more clarification. The unicorn shot a me a snobbish smile that I would have loved to forcefully remove.

"You know, I might forgive you for running into me if you buy me a drink…" My scowl deepened, though she didn't seem to notice. She actually moved in closer and began tracing circles on my chest with the tip of her hoof. "And later, we could go back to your place 'n do other stuff…"

I hissed through my teeth as my irritation began to boil over. I might have burned a hole into the floor if somepony hadn't pushed me out of the way.

"Okay, no more chatting with the drunk fillies," Sparkdrift chuckled as she led me away from the annoying mares and deeper into the club. I grumbled for a moment, but regained my footing and followed anyway. Circular platforms were placed evenly throughout the area, exhibiting scantily clad mares dancing provocatively for eager audiences, meaning we had to weave our way through a multitude of excited stallions and mares. Thankfully, we didn't have to travel far before the crowd cleared, if only slightly, revealing a long counter in the shape of a half circle, with the ends meeting the wall. It had to span at least a quarter of the club. The back was shelved, stocked with all sorts of liquor and other alcoholic wonders. As much as I disliked this place, I had to admit they had an impressive bar.

My gaze focused on one of the patrons seated along the counter. He was a sleek earth stallion, with a royal blue coat and an ice blue mane and tail. A dark jacket covered his back and forelegs, leaving the padlock Mark on his flank uncovered. He was resting his chin on the counter, nursing a topaz-colored beverage, and looking rather miserable. Sparkdrift tapped me on the shoulder.

"You go talk with him," she said. "I'm going to find our little troublemaker." She turned and walked back into the crowd without waiting for an answer. I approached the bar and seated myself next to my informant.

"Tough day?" I asked, slapping him heartily on the shoulder. He jolted upwards, nearly throwing the wraparound shades off of his head.

"King's bloody balls!" he swore, grabbing the counter to balance himself. His drink wobbled warningly as he accidentally struck it, spilling a bit of its contents before steadying inches from the edge. He fixed me with bleary-eyed glare. "You're a damn good sneak when you want to be," he stated, much more calmly.

I gave him a disarming smile, leaning my cheek on a hoof. "I'm supposed to be. It's part of my job."

Code Blue nodded, grabbing his drink and taking a large sip from it. "I suppose it is, then," he answered after swallowing.

Despite his less-than-stellar mood, I couldn't resist needling him. "So, come around here often?" He choked, my words catching him as he went for another swig.

"Hollow's the only reason I'm here," he protested as his coughing fit subsided. "I wanted to wait out in that bar on the edge of Iron District, but the Invisible Wonder ran off before I could call Sparkdrift."

"Bar on the edge of Iron District?" I asked, unfamiliar with the location. He nodded again.

"The Broken Lute. Ring any bells?" I hummed in assent. The Broken Lute was a small establishment, unassuming and out of the way. It wasn't exactly high-end, but at least it wasn't ridden with neon lights and bad music.

"Anyway," Blue continued, "She ended up leading me here, and by then it would have taken too long to go back, so…" He ended his explanation with a shrug.

I sighed through my nose, images of Hollow leashed and tied to a telephone pole flitting through my mind. I flagged down the nearby bartender, ignoring my brain's plea to stop while I was ahead. "I'll have whatever my friend here is having," I told the cheerful mare, whose mane I decided had too many colors. She looked like she stuck her head in a blender full of melted crayons. I fished a tannish note out of a satchel concealed beneath my vest, which she accepted happily and left to fill my order.

"Grievances aside, we have business to take care of," I said, giving Blue a serious look. He gave a firm nod and withdrew a thin, rectangular object from the inside of his jacket. It was made of a black material, and a screen covered most of one side. He placed his hoof on the middle of the screen and the tablet flared to life, revealing a grid-like menu. A couple quick pokes with the tip of his hoof and a long list of names popped up, which Blue began scrolling through.

"Okay, let's see here…" He began muttering to himself, eyes quickly, yet carefully scanning the screen as he skimmed through hundreds of names. "...Gale...Garland...Garnet."

He tapped the screen again and a new window appeared, displaying a photograph of the stallion I had just murdered merely half an hour ago. The text beside the image read '_Current Status_', followed by '_Active_'.

"Garnet Scroll, founder of Garnet Industries," Blue drolled. Another tap, and '_Active_' was replaced by '_Deceased_'. "Garnet was one of the Ministry's major suppliers in terms of firepower. Without their figurehead, the company might realize it's not worth it and run for the hills."

He turned the tablet off and stuffed it back into his jacket. "We've slowed down arms production by at least thirty percent," he finished, giving me the first grin I had seen from him all night. Before I could answer, the bartender returned with my drink. I nodded my thanks, and she left again with a bounce in her step. That mare was way too happy.

I brought the drink to my lips with magic and blinked in surprise. It was sour, not terribly so, but just enough to leave an sharp sensation on my tongue that made my mouth water. I tasted lemon, among some other fruit, and vanilla. I took a couple more sips before setting the glass down. "I could do with a couple more of these," I remarked.

Blue nodded. "I already have," he stated, right before draining his own glass. I shook my head in mock disappointment.

"Getting drunk on the job, Code? That's hardly professional." He snorted.

"Professional, my ass. At least I don't knock security guards unconscious for name-calling." I gave my own snort at that.

"He was being obnoxious and you know it. He could've blown my cover."

"You can give me any excuse you can come with," Blue chuckled. "I just don't think you're partial to 'Snowball'."

I rolled my eyes and sighed lightly. "Got me there." Blue just smirked. After a moment he hopped off of his stool and dusted himself off.

"I'm heading out. I've got three more stops to make before turning in for the night." He held out his hoof, and I bumped it with my own. "Don't get caught."

He flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me alone at the bar. With Garnet's assassination reported, all I needed to worry about was getting back home. Unfortunately, that was a lot to worry about. If the speed at which the Hounds appeared earlier was any indication, the city was going to be flooded with police activity. Navigating the streets without running into trouble was going to be a chore.

It took me a moment to notice that Sparkdrift had been gone for a while, and another to realize why. With a sigh that may as well have been a growl, I finished my drink and stood to leave, catching the attention of the bartender as I did so. She waved when she saw me, her ever-present smile widening ever so slightly. I gave her a mock salute, somewhat aware that I was smiling back.

I found Sparkdrift in another area of the club, pacing back and forth frantically. It was a little funny to watch, but she was attracting unnecessary attention from passing ponies. I put myself in her path, stopping her with a hoof before she could walk into me. She jumped a little, unfurling her wings, before she realized it was me.

"Sh-Shadow! Uh…" She danced from hoof to hoof for a brief moment. "I can't find her. Like, anywhere."

"Yeah, I figured that would be the case," I replied. "She _is_ kinda hard to notice." I noticed a faint shimmer out of the corner of my eye, slowly moving to rest behind Sparkdrift. It was like a distortion in the air, akin to looking through warped glass.

"I know, but I didn't think she'd be _that_ hard to find!" she answered. "Doesn't she have a limit for how long she can stay like that?" The anomaly moved again, out from behind Sparkdrift and closer to me. I picked out a vaguely equine figure before it moved out of my range of vision.

"About half an hour, if she stays completely still." I huffed in feigned anger. "Obviously she doesn't _want_ to be found. I say we leave her." I flicked my tail, catching something on the end of it that responded with a squeak.

I looked behind me just in time to watch a mare with a bluish-gray coat fade into view. Her mane and tail were a sweep of cobweb white, her ears had tufts of extra fur on the tips, and a pair leathery, bat-like wings protruded from her back. She was rubbing her nose with a hoof, glaring at me with amber, slit-pupiled eyes.

"Oh, Hollow. We were just talking about you."

Hollow put her hoof down, revealing a couple of small fangs that hung over her lip. She tucked one inside, pouting at me childishly.

"Jerk." Her voice was soft, and I almost didn't hear it over the music.

"Whatever, snaggletooth." I jabbed a hoof at her. "You're the one who wanders off whenever you feel like it. This needs to stop."

She furrowed her brow, increasing the intensity of her moue. "But it was so _boring_ there. Why can't we ever camp somewhere fun?"

I groaned internally, having already foreseen this question. "It's not supposed to be fun. Fun is for when we aren't on a job. Do you realize how much trouble we could get in just for being here?" Hollow's pout turned into a sullen frown, and she began tracing circles into the dark carpet with her hoof. I bit the inside of my cheek in contemplation. "Look, I'm not going to report this to the Director." She perked up a bit. "As long as you promise to stay put when I tell you to."

After a brief moment of hesitation, the demure thestral breathed a sigh and nodded. "Okay, Shadow."

I gave her a single grateful nod. "Good. Now let's get the hell out of here before I go insane."

Thankfully, our departure from Mousetrapp was uneventful. Not so thankfully, that changed as soon as we walked out the front door. The mares from before, the unicorn that walked into me and her friend, were loitering on the sidewalk, talking to a pegasus stallion. The unicorn spotted me as we exited the building, and pointed me out with a smug grin.

"That's him, Barbell," she said loudly, obviously so I would hear. The pegasus met my impassive stare and approached me confidently. I waited calmly, struggling to keep my rising irritation out of my expression. He stopped a couple inches away from me, way too close for my comfort, and cocked his head.

"You make a move on my mare?" My eye twitched.

"If I recall correctly, it was the other way around. Your marefriend walked into me, got pissed off, then attempted to seduce me." I clicked my tongue. "Maybe you should put her on a leash, hm?" That got a snicker out of Hollow.

"I think you're a fucking liar," Barbell said, coming a step closer and thrusting his face in mine. I briefly thought it would be funny to kiss, but figured it most likely wasn't worth it. Besides, he smelled like grease and cheap beer.

Sparkdrift raised a hoof. "Nope, I was there."

The pegasus shot her a glare. "Shut up, whore," he snapped, causing the mares behind him to giggle in idiotic fashion. Sparkdrift growled and began to advance, but I stopped her with a hoof.

"What was that about keeping your mare on a leash?" Barbell quipped with a sneer.

I ignored that, deciding that I've had enough. "So, here's what going to happen. I'm going to hit you _really_ hard, go home, and sleep off this headache. But first, I want you to apologize to my friend here for calling her a whore. Sound good?"

"Fuck y-" I didn't let him finish. My hoof shot out like a rocket, clocking him in the snout. His head snapped back so hard that it took the rest of him with it, the force pushing him onto his haunches as miniature twin fountains of blood gushed from his nostrils with all the grace of a broken lawn sprinkler. With the agonizing slowness of a tree being felled, his body continued to fall backwards, allowing gravity to take control since its owner had lost the ability to do so. He landed face up on the concrete, clearly unconscious, muzzle covered in blood and tongue hanging out of his mouth. I could have written a poem about the entire process if I had felt so inclined.

There was dead silence for about five seconds. The two mares gaped in the background. Sparkdrift's jaw hung open, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Hollow appeared to be grinning and grimacing sympathetically at the same time. I just stood there, observing his unmoving form.

Sparkdrift was the first to break the silence. "I think you overdid it, Shadow…"

The two mares gave me one last glance and took off running in the other direction. I didn't care, I was too busy suffering a monstrous headache. Today was not going according to plan, and the stress was catching up to me. I rubbed my forehead with a hoof, trying to get my mind in order.

A noisy crunch jolted me from my thoughts. I looked behind me at Sparkdrift, staring off at the retreating ponies and munching shamelessly on a cinnamon stick. I wracked my aching brain, trying to figure out when she had gotten a hold of one of my treats.

"Sparks, that…" I stared at her flatly when she caught my eye, still chewing. "...that was in your mane the whole time, wasn't it?"

She swallowed quickly to answer. "Yep."

I wanted to scream at her, but decided the ensuing argument wasn't worth the migraine, so I settled for having the last word. "You're grounded."

* * *

You may have noticed Shadow often says 'hm?' after some questions. I know that this makes the syntax look terrible, but I ask that you bear with me. It's meant to be a small personality quirk of his. It's a short hum with a slight upward lilt, spoken after statements in which he suggests something. It's probably obvious but I just wanted to clear that up.


	2. Burning Rubber

**Chapters two and three were originally one ginormous chapter, until I realized I was going a bit overboard and split them. Chapter three is in the works, just gotta run it through, make it all nice and pretty, as well as get started on the fourth.**

**Also, bit of action in this one. Lemme know how I did.**

* * *

It was pleasantly quiet today. As someone who relies on sound more than others, this was significant to me. The quiet meant that we were alone.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though. We haven't spent nearly enough time together lately, though it wasn't really either of our faults. Dad's just been...preoccupied with work, I guess. Or maybe it had something to do with that strange pony I've seen him talking to. Come to think of it, him and Mom have been fighting a lot more recently…whatever it was, I'm just glad he found some time for me today.

My ears swivelled attentively, scanning for anything of importance. I heard plenty, obviously, but the only things of note were the deep tapping of my father's hooves and my slightly softer and faster paced own. The wind blew softly, rustling leaves and biting at my alabaster coat. I inhaled deeply, taking in the earthy scent that it carried, and let it out in a satisfied sigh. I turned my head in what I thought was the direction my father was in and focused my magic in the way I had taught myself. After a second of searching, I managed to get a fix on him, or at least the rough shape of his body. I focused harder, molding my aura around the contours of his form, allowing me to make out a perfect image of his likeness.

He was as calm as ever, stone faced and gruff in a lazy, yet refined gait that only the most experienced of fathers can muster. Squarish spectacles sat upon his nose, resting about an inch away from his eyes. I smirked to myself. He didn't even need them, he just thought they made him look sophisticated.

He blinked, as if finally realizing something was amiss, then looked down at me and smiled warmly.

"You're getting better at that," he commented, his voice a soft, rolling baritone that seemed equal parts paternal pride and conversational apathy. I smiled back. He returned his gaze to the path in front of him.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked. I focused my magic at the ground, revealing a stone pathway in my mind's eye.

"A sidewalk?" I answered obviously, earning myself a light scoff.

"_Yes_, but where?"

I extended my magic around me, forming a sort of invisible sphere of vision. The sidewalk was bordered on either side by well-kept grass that was level to my ankles. We passed by a bench, then a couple trees. I had a pretty good idea of where we were.

"It's a park?"

"Close." He paused in his tracks, and I imagined him sweeping his hoof in front of him in a gesture of presentation. He was often bit dramatic, claiming that certain things required a 'bit of flair' to get the point across. "This is the Rosean Statue Garden."

I grinned in excitement. We lived in Clover Valley; my father, mother, and myself. Clover Valley was an old and relatively tame city in eastern Enterra, somewhat detached from the larger cities. The Statue Garden was Clover Valley's main attraction, not that anyone toured here. However, history interested me, and the Rosean Statue Garden was rich with it.

My father first led me to a statue of a regal looking mare with a meticulously styled mane that fell down in elegant curls, and a tail to match. Even though I could only 'see' with my magic, I could tell she must have been gorgeous in life. A small, ornate crown graced her head, which was held high in confidence. I didn't even need to read the plaque.

"Lady Platinum," I stated. "The last ruler of the Old Nation."

"Do you believe any of the stories?" my father asked.

"About the Great Divide?" I rubbed my chin. "Well, all stories have to come from somewhere. Surely some parts hold some truth to them, hm?"

He hummed thoughtfully, but said nothing.

Our next stop was a statue of a stallion that I couldn't recognize, mostly because he wore a huge cloak with a hood that revealed only his muzzle, which held no expression whatsoever. He was seated on his haunches, wearing the cloak's sleeve on his right foreleg while the left was bare, hoof grasping the handle of a sword that pierced through the ground. The figure was carved to appear to be sitting in a breeze, as the cloak's lapels and loose sleeve fluttered in still time.

"Ah, the Insipid King himself," my father said, neutral interest evident in his tone.

"Really?" I tried to get a better focus on the statue's face, to no avail. "How can you tell?"

"The sword. That's the Pledge of Tacit, the King's personal blade."

I took his word for it, having never seen the actual weapon for myself. Still, I pushed my senses against the length of carved stone in the King's grasp, taking note of the intricate markings on the blade. The real thing must have been a marvel of metalworking.

Something caught my attention from the peripheral of my vision-that is, the edge of my magical field. I removed my attention away from the statue and focused on a patch of foliage, which, now that I noticed it, was clearly hiding something. I trotted over and pushed aside the mass of vines and shrubbery, allowing myself a path that led me into a large clearing. It appeared to be an enclosure made out of trees, vines, and tall growing plants, and I could make out splotches of stone within the plantlife. I realized that I was inside some sort of gazebo, and the overgrowth was so thick that it obscured it from view.

What really caught my attention, though, was the statue in the center. It was tall, standing noticeably higher than the others in the garden, and stood upon a pedestal and floor of some dark stone that seemed to resist my attempts to 'see' it. It was as if the statue was resting on a pool of nothingness. That in itself was peculiar, but at the moment the statue had my attention.

It depicted a pony that seemed to inspire awe and mystery simply from gazing upon them. That being said, I couldn't tell if I was looking at a mare or a stallion. They had the slender figure of a mare, but something-call it instinct or a hunch-told me it was a stallion. Looking at its face told me nothing; his, or her, features could catch the eye of mares and stallions alike. How odd.

His mane was straight, and incredibly long. Sitting on his haunches as he was, it climbed down his back and sides, nearly scraping the ground. He held a foreleg over his chest, eyes closed in silent melancholy.

I barely noticed the rustling of leaves as my father joined me in the clearing, coming to stand by my side in observing my discovery. A couple seconds passed before either of us spoke.

"Who is this?" I asked.

I could hear Dad shift a bit. "I...I don't know…" He moved a little closer, trying to get a better view. "I didn't even know this was here…"

I wasn't surprised. With the way this place looked, I doubted anyone did. This statue had been undisturbed for long, long time.

_...bea...blame...sins...those who fle..._

I wasn't surprised to hear the whispers. I was used to them. I was surprised at how...vivid they were.

_...who once led...lies...wait beyond...eil of reality..._

They were coming from the statue itself, I realized. I slowly approached the pedestal, trying to make my hoofsteps as quiet as possible. My hooves hit the onyx stone with a dull _clop_.

"Shadow…" my father warned. I ignored him, I needed to follow the whispers.

_...demands not fear, nor...spect...only understanding..._

Something rested at the base of the statue, glittering in my magical senses even though I could not actually see it. The closer I got, the louder the whispers became.

_Silence is sanctuary...eternal wo...calls. _

The object on the pedestal was a pendant. I unconsciously shrank my magical field to focus on its shape. It was a small piece of strange metal hanging from a light chain, small enough to fit in the frog of my hoof.

_...void does not judge...plead not...amnesty...both forgiving and merciless...justice is absolute..._

By now I was at the base of the statue, holding the pendant up to my face in my telekinetic grip. I had all but removed my magical field, shrouding only the necklace in my magic.

_...Dancer in Flame,_

It was a strange, but beautiful piece. Two bits of metal were curved towards each other, more so on one end, just barely meeting at the points to form an upside-down heart.

_The World Stitcher,_

All that existed at the moment was myself and the pendant, glittering in my mind's eye like a star. Any noise was drowned out by the whispers, which were so loud that there may have been a crowd spirits surrounding me, whispering a tragic story in my ears.

_He Who Watches,_

_The One Named Void,_

_Lacuna._

* * *

I placed a bottle of pain relievers on the counter, distracting the cashier away from his newspaper. The overweight earth pony sighed through his nose and painted on a fake smile.

"Is that all?" he asked. I nodded, and pulled out a couple of marks from the inside of my vest. As soon as he got the money his smile disappeared. He dropped it into the register and went back to reading the paper. "Take care."

He said "Take care", but his face said "Get out."

I grabbed the bottle and left with an annoyed grunt. Sparkdrift's car was waiting for me outside, humming softly. I slipped into the passenger's seat and immediately began fumbling with the bottle.

"The roads are gonna be hell," Sparkdrift commented dryly as she pulled back into the street.

I huffed gently. "Tell me something I don't know." I couldn't open the bottle with my hoof, so I stuck the cap in my mouth and twisted with both hooves. I heard a giggle from the back seat.

Sparkdrift shifted a bit in her seat. "We have a plan?"

I took the bottle out of my mouth for a second. "Stay away from open roads. Don't drive like a maniac. The rest is common sense."

"What if we get pulled over?"

"Then we pray it's just city militia. If we run into Hounds, we might have to fight our way out of here...dammit, why won't this thing open?"

"Because there's a plastic seal on it, genius."

I stopped gnawing on the bottle and looked at the top in indignation. Hollow giggled again. I groaned in frustration and peeled the plastic off with my teeth.

"Shadow, I don't think we can fight our way out of an entire OTPF patrol."

I spit the plastic out and unscrewed the cap. "We aren't going to, per se. You're the best driver I know. We may not be able to outrun them, but we can outmaneuver them."

I threw back at least third of the bottle, swallowing rather painfully. Sparkdrift gaped at me.

"Um, Shadow, I don't think you're supposed to take that much…" I chuckled.

"With all the shit the Ministry's science dogs pumped into me, I don't think a few pills are going to affect me much."

Sparkdrift furrowed her brow and bit her lip. "If you say so," she conceded with a shrug.

The roads, true to my predictions, were bogged down by police patrols. It was mostly city militia, recognizable by their tannish uniforms and blue cars, though I caught several glimpses of the signature black and silver of Hound vehicles. Sparkdrift kept at a sedate speed, eyes darting back and forth for any sign of trouble.

"That's it, easy does it," I muttered, silently praising our carriage's ability to escape notice. We approached an intersection and my breath caught as I saw a Hound carriage in a crossing lane. Its black-clad driver wasn't in it, he was instead harassing a local officer on the sidewalk, who was trying his hardest to keep a brave face. He must have said something the Ministry officer didn't like, because the Hound pulled out his nightstick and struck him in the temple. The cop went down, holding his hooves over his head. The Hound hit him a couple more times for good measure, then bent over to whisper something in the poor stallion's ear.

"Bastard," Sparkdrift growled, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

I felt numb as I watched the incident, having grown used to the scene playing out before me. I'd been on the receiving end more times than I care to count. "Stay calm, there's nothing we can do," I said firmly, though the words tasted bitter on my tongue. Sparkdrift relaxed, but her fiery glare remained.

We passed the intersection unnoticed, thankfully, turning onto a narrow road that was bereft of any police. In fact, there was an annoying lack of any vehicles, meaning we were right out in the open. As if only to make my day more complicated, a blue carriage pulled in behind us shortly afterwards.

"Dammit," I muttered, waiting for the cop to start flashing his spotlight at us. He seemed content to just tailgate, and we managed to reach the end of the road without being pulled over. Despite this, I still had my suspicions, so I motioned for Sparkdrift to turn left. Hollow seemed a little confused by our change in course.

"The Office is in the other direction," she protested softly. I shook my head.

"This cop might be tailing us. We need to shake him before heading back."

After a moment, the militia officer turned in the same direction. I groaned in frustration, glaring at the offending motorcarriage through the rearview mirror. Sparkdrift sped up a little, putting distance between us and him. She took the next right, and I only caught a glimpse of the carriage's front bumper before Sparkdrift jerked the wheel to the left, taking a sharp turn into an alley I didn't see, and gunned it, throwing myself and Hollow into our seats and eliciting a yelp of surprise from the thestral. Once again, I praised our carriage's stealth.

I twisted myself around as Sparkdrift cruised down the alley, watching through the rear window as discreetly as possible. I breathed a sigh of relief when the cop passed the alley.

"We're clear, Sparks. Take us home."

"Um...Sh-Shadow…" I turned away from the window. A ball of ice formed in my stomach when I saw what had her so scared.

The alley opened up into a road several lanes wide. To the right, a wall of black motorcarriages with thick silver stripes along the sides was blocking it, each vehicle parked so that the only way through was a gap in the middle. The wall was guarded by people in dark, thick barding with the letters 'OTPF' stitched on the breast and rank insignia on the foreleg. Three in particular, a griffin, an earth pony, and a unicorn, were standing beside the gap in their blockade, stopping any carriages from passing so they could check the vehicle over. The unicorn would then write something down on a clipboard before waving them along.

All of them bore weapons. The four in the middle had rifles strapped to their backs, while the rest held theirs in hoof and talon, ready to fire at the drop of a hat. Anyone attempting to escape would be gunned down on the spot.

We had driven right into a Hound patrol checkpoint.

"Um...maybe it's not as bad as it looks…" I suggested, despite my growing trepidation.

"Not as bad as it looks?!" Sparkdrift whispered harshly. "We're _fucked_!"

"Mmmmaybe not...the Hounds shouldn't recognize us. I know we weren't seen at Garnet's office, and there were no police in or near the strip club. This is probably just a weapons check." I shifted forward, giving myself room to pull my forelegs out of my vest. I pulled my sword out from I had hidden it under my seat and handed both to Hollow, who looked as scared as Sparkdrift was acting. "Hold onto these and ghost up."

Hollow swallowed hard and nodded, slipping my vest on and clutching Negotiation against her chest. She faded out of view like a mirage, my sword and vest disappearing with her.

I sat back and breathed deeply, trying to make myself look as unassuming as possible. Granted, I didn't know what exactly 'unassuming' entailed, so I just kind of slouched and stared out the window.

Sparkdrift merged with the traffic, muttering reassurances to herself. I heard a faint shuffling from the backseat as Hollow shifted nervously. The line was moving pretty slowly, which only served to make the situation more tense. Sparkdrift began to hum tunelessly, drumming her hooves on the steering wheel as we waited our turn. I seemed the calmest by comparison, but I was pretty confident in my gambit. As long as Hollow stayed hidden and quiet, Sparkdrift and I could easily pass for a couple of friends out enjoying ourselves.

I opened the glove compartment and pulled out my tin of cinnamon sticks, popping the top open and sticking one in between my teeth. The slight tingling heat made my mouth water. I rolled it around with my tongue for a moment before chewing, the sugary taste settling my nerves. Not that I really needed it to; candy was more a ritual to me than anything, though it did do wonders for my psyche. It had ever since the Labs.

It felt like half an hour by the time we were up next for inspection. Sparkdrift cleared her throat, and like a switch had been flicked in her head she went from anxious to calm. For all of her jitteriness, she could be great actor when she wanted to be. The earth pony, a sergeant, if the chevrons on his sleeve were anything to go by, stood in front of us and held up a hoof, signalling for us to stop. A thump and some fumbling could be heard behind us as the griffin opened the trunk and began rummaging around. The unicorn approached the driver's side door and gestured for Sparkdrift to roll the window down. I turned away, obscuring my face as much as I could with my messy white mane. I wasn't taking any chances.

"Need to ask you some questions," he droned. My heart sped up slightly when I realized how familiar his voice sounded. Also, not a weapons check. Shit. "Don't move, and we'll get this over with as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir," Sparkdrift replied plainly, expertly suppressing her distaste.

"Where were you about four hours ago, on the seventeenth of July?" I _know_ I've heard that voice before, it was buried somewhere in the back of my mind.

"Mousetrapp. Nightclub about two and a half miles from here." That...worked, I suppose.

"Uh-huh." I heard him writing something down on his clipboard. "Have you see anything suspicious in that area?"

"Can't say that I have." Sparkdrift's voice was even, betraying none of her anxiety.

The guard huffed a _very_ familiar, long-suffering sigh, writing on his clipboard. "Alright, just a moment longer."

My curiosity won out, and I turned just enough to get a look at the officer. My breath caught in my throat.

Dark blue coat, and a dirt brown mane that clung to his neck. His face was covered in stubble that thickened on his chin. Sharp orange eyes, half lidded in absolute boredom, scanned the clipboard suspended in a magical aura of the same color. Suddenly, it all came back to me.

I realized I had been staring too long when he looked up from the clipboard and saw me. His eyes immediately narrowed. "Hold on a minute…"

He backed away from the window, slowly circling around the front of the carriage.

"_Oh fuck_," Sparkdrift muttered. I said nothing keeping my eyes pinned on the Hound.

"Unexpected change of plans," I announced quietly. Get ready to get us out of here."

"I thought you said we'd be fine," Sparkdrift replied, anger tinging her words.

"Like I said, change of plans."

The cop stopped at my window and rapped on it. I tensed myself and then rolled down the window.

The Hound's expression underwent a complete change once he got a good look at my face. Any and all suspicion was erased as shocked recognition set in. His eyes widened in disbelief for all of a second before darkening into a glare.

"You!"

I grinned. "Howdy." I socked him in the face, knocking him out immediately. To my satisfaction, he smacked his jaw on the door on the way down.

"Let's go!" I shouted. Sparkdrift kicked down on the accelerator and we took off like a rocket. I heard a muffled squawk and a thump as the griffin searching our truck was interrupted by our departure.

Not even five seconds afterwards, the air rang out with the booming crack of gunfire, accompanied by the harsh percussion of bullets impacting the carriage.

"Oooooh, that'll never buff out," Sparkdrift whined, wincing every time the carriage was hit.

The wailing of a siren could be heard as a Hound carriage moved in to intercept our path. With a quick jerk of the wheel, Sparkdrift deftly avoided it, throwing us into a drift down the street it had appeared from. I leaned out of the window, keeping an eye out for any more ambushes.

"Sparks, right," I called, spotting two approaching carriages down a neighboring street. One pulled up our right while the other came around to the left. "Hollow, sword!" The now-visible thestral handed back Negotiation.

The driver on my side rolled down his window and stuck a pistol in my face, so I lopped off his foreleg with a lazy downward swing. He screamed and clutched his bleeding stump, losing control over his vehicle, which careened in the opposite direction and crashed into a building.

"Can you take care of that?" I shouted to my driver, gesturing to the other motorcarriage with my bloodied sword.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She lifted the armrest, revealing a T-shaped lever underneath. She cranked it forward as far as it would go. We began to pick up speed, leaving the remaining carriage struggling to keep up.

I noticed, with some discomfort, that we were rapidly running out of road. "Sparks, I hope whatever you have in mind doesn't end with us hitting that wall, because that would kinda defeat the purpose of us running away!"

She answered with a roguish grin, eyes alight with adrenaline-fueled mischief. In one swift movement she let off the gas, wrenched the lever back, spun the steering wheel as far right as it would go, and slammed on the brake. The result was a several yards long drift that launched us down the rest of the street sideways. I could hear and smell our tires burning.

Before we hit the wall at the end of the road, Sparkdrift hit the gas again, pulling the carriage out of the drift and down the next road without incident. I watched in bemusement as the Hound tried to repeat our maneuver, only to hit the wall with a violent crescendo. The vehicle crumpled like tin foil, sending bits of metal and glass in all directions.

"Holy shit!" Sparkdrift laughed. "That actually worked!"

I opened my mouth to comment on her mental health, but was cut off by the screech of tires as another carriage pulled in from our right at breakneck speed. This one was smarter; he kept his distance, but remained level with us. He didn't want to give us the opportunity to retaliate.

The driver rolled the window down, and I once again found myself at the business end of a standard issue sidearm, only this time we were too far away for me to do anything. He opened fire and missed the first couple shots, though a lucky one buried itself in my right shoulder, sending a jolt of searing pain through my upper body. Sparkdrift looked over to me in worry, but I shook my head.

"Small caliber, just a pinch," I lied, despite the thick rivulet of blood streaming from the wound. I switched my sword to the other hoof. "Just pull in closer!"

Again, the Hound made to fire on us, though with Sparkdrift quickly closing the distance I was able to grab his hoof and push up, causing him to fire skyward harmlessly. I twisted his hoof backwards, eliciting a pained shout and making him swerve dangerously for a second. With a quick thrust of my free foreleg, Negotiation found its mark in the driver's windpipe. He choked wetly, dropping his pistol in the road to grab at his throat in a desperate attempt to gain breath.

In his panicked struggling, his vehicle began to waver. "Sparks, pull away! He's gonna crash!"

Sparkdrift growled, peeling away from the carriage as it spun out of control and nearly took us with it. We just barely got away, the wayward vehicle clipping our back bumper before bouncing off the wall and colliding with another Hound that happened to be following at what they thought was a cautious distance. His mistake.

"You know," Sparkdrift griped through grit teeth, "this kind of thing wouldn't happen if you just carried a gun."

My eye twitched involuntarily.

"I don't need a gun." To be honest, I didn't really _want_ one. Too loud for my tastes. Not to mention I always travelled light, and rarely carried anything I couldn't conceal in my vest or saddlebags, whenever I chose to wear them. I _did_ own a pistol, but requisitioning ammunition was always a hassle. Besides, I could do as much work with an bladed weapon as most people can with a gun.

Just...not while in a vehicle. Sparkdrift will never let me live down the time I yelled 'Drive me closer, I want to hit them with my sword!' as we plowed our way through a diamond dog quarry.

"The fact that you're bleeding all over my carriage begs to differ," the agitated pegasus replied hotly.

I frowned, looking down the large crimson smear staining my alabaster coat. A lot of it was smeared on my chest and foreleg, and more was trailing off my body onto the seat. I opened the glove box with a grumble, pulled out the same rag from before and a roll of bandages and began cleaning myself with it. Once I had gotten most of the blood, I bunched up the cloth and held it against the wound to stem the flow, then wrapped it against my shoulder with the bandages in a rough tourniquet.

We managed to fall in with traffic and change course before the other Hounds flew past us in a cacophony of wailing sirens. Again, our carriage went undetected, practically hidden by civilian vehicles and its own natural stealth. Once we seemed to be in the clear, Sparkdrift broke away from the busy road and sped up to a fast cruise. Hollow finally uncloaked herself, handing back my vest. I opted to keep it off because it would only agitate my shoulder.

Because of our little stunt at the checkpoint, I was quite positive that all Hound forces dispatched to Chalice District were aware of us. I wasn't worried, though; the only one who had gotten a good look at my face was out cold, and I doubted remember when he came to. It was a pretty hard punch. The Hounds valued punishment and intimidation over diligence and justice, and since they were all headed in the wrong direction with no name or face to go on, they would realize they've been duped, get frustrated, and pull out.

The city militia, on the other hand, would still be a problem. A significantly less compelling problem, but a problem nonetheless. They were still looking for a culprit, and if the Hounds had bothered cooperating with them, they would have one. I suppose it was lucky for us that the OTPF would rather publically assault lesser authorities than help them.

About a quarter mile of the way to our destination, Sparkdrift caught me with an errant question.

"What the hell happened back there, anyway?" I blinked, then lifted my head from the carriage window to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Back at the checkpoint. I thought you said we'd be fine." She gave me a sidelong glance. "That unicorn looked like he knew you."

"I was kinda wondering about that too," Hollow chimed in from the backseat, propping her forelegs up on the front armrest.

A ball of mud settled uncomfortably in my stomach as I rubbed my jawline. A few seconds passed as I formulated my response.

"Steeltoe." The name was like a bad taste on my tongue. "He was the head of security at Orchidae Labs, at least while I was there. His job was to keep the test subjects in line, but he was removed after he 'accidentally' beat one to death."

I let that sink in for a second, returning my head to its resting position on the window. "I was his favorite. Every time he needed to blow off steam, he'd pay me a visit. Of course he'd recognize me as soon as he saw me." I chuckled. "He used to call me 'Stress Ball'."

Sparkdrift blinked. "Huh."

I rolled my eyes. Sparkdrift was never the most comforting of people. Part of the reason I almost always chose her as my transportation. That, and she's a gods-damned good driver. Crazy, but good.

In short time, we arrived at the street that hid the base of operations I had little choice but to call home; the Office.


	3. Turn in and Tune Out

**This chapter didn't arrive anywhere near close to when I said it would. Whoops.**

* * *

"Do you see him?" I didn't hear him at first, as I was far too focused on the street below. I was nervous, I won't deny it. I wouldn't be able to hide it well anyway; I was shaking like a leaf. The view through my binoculars didn't help much. Every civilian that passed through my line of sight sent another wave of anxious excitement running needles up my spine. I felt like it would be almost better if the street was crowded, at least the tension wouldn't be as unbearable. I didn't want to be here, but, as Moriki has been reminding me for the past few weeks, I had to do this sooner or later. Might as well be now.

"Shadow, eyes?"

I swallowed hard. "I...n-no. Street's clean."

Moriki brought his paw up to the walkie-talkie on his vest, pressing the button on the side. "Anything on your end, Force?" he spoke into it.

A couple seconds passed before a voice answered from the device. "Zilch. Looking like it's gonna be an all-nighter."

The old dog groaned, scratching his head in frustration. "Annoying. If we don't see him soon I'm gonna hunt him down myself and use his guts as a tightrope."

I didn't bother replying, my concentration solely on the street once again. A couple more minutes passed, with no sign of our target, before Moriki placed a thick paw on my shoulder. "You nervous?" he asked.

"Very. I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"No one is, their first time. Or their second. In fact, the moment when you're ready may never come." He twisted me around so that I was facing him, his sharp orange eyes piercing my mismatched own. "And pray that it never does, because the first time you're ready is when you start to lose yourself. That is how demons are made. There is potential in everybody, good and bad, but the decisions you make will carve your path in life."

If he was trying to make me feel better, he wasn't doing a good job of it. Now I was even more unsure. "And does the same apply to the Ministry?"

Moriki turned himself around, leaning his back against the wall of the stair tower beside us. "Ugh. Gray areas. I was never good at explaining those." He sighed. "Like I said, there is potential in everybody. Some use it well, some don't. Yes, the same applies to the Ministry. There are those that believe they are doing the right thing, not knowing the harm they are causing. Others realize the evil they are a part of, desperately searching escape, or doing what good they can from within. But many…" His eyes narrowed, his next words coming out in a near growl. "...many are monsters. And monsters _deserve_ to die."

I think I had an idea of what he was saying, but before I could give my thoughts, something caught my eye on street level. I lifted the binoculars to my face, peering at the figure cautiously walking down the sidewalk. He was kept looking behind himself, as if he was expecting someone to jump out. His gait was stilted and nervous, like he had something to hide. I got a look at his face; he was a unicorn, with beige fur and blonde hair. My heart lept into my throat.

"Moriki!" I harshly whispered. The dark-furred dog shot over to my side, peeking off the roof at the stallion. He turned on his walkie-talkie. "Rain Dance, we have eyes on target coming up on your alley. Get ready to intercept."

"Yes sir," replied Rain Dance's tinny voice from the device.

The target continued onward, unknowing but apparently suspicious of what was about to befall him. As he approached the next alley, a azure pegasus burst from its shadowy confines, aiming a wrist-mounted pistol at the unfortunate stallion. "Don't move!" she barked.

"Oh, shit," the stallion breathed. I wouldn't have heard him if my hearing wasn't so good.

"It's the end of the line, Crossroads," Rain Dance continued. "Come with us peacefully and maybe we can work something out."

A jolt of magic burst from his horn, impacting her hoof and breaking the gun from its harness. Rain Dance yelped, her weapon clattering to the ground as she cradled her injured hoof. The stallion took off down the road.

"Shite," Moriki muttered. "We need to get down there!" He ran off to the fire escape stairway on the far side of the roof and I followed suit. Twenty seconds later we were on the street, approaching the pegasus.

"He turned on Auler Street!" she shouted.

Moriki nodded. "Can you follow?"

"Yeah. My gun took the brunt of it."

"Good. Let's go."

We tore off after the escaping stallion, myself nearly losing balance as we turned on the aforementioned street. Crossroads had gained considerable ground on us.

"Damnit,: Moriki cursed. "Kid, you're faster than either of us."

I nodded, steeling myself for what I was about to do. As I began to pick up the pace, Moriki turned on his walkie-talkie, instructing Blunt Force to try and intercept from the opposite direction, even though there was little chance he would be able to make there in time.

My muscles barely even itched as the wind began to whip at my face, though my heart was pumping furiously, a cacophony in my ears. My eyes were deadlocked on Crossroads' rump. My apprehension was forgotten. I felt like an animal. For a brief moment, I felt _awesome_.

I quickly gained on the unfortunate stallion, though in my frustrated opinion, not quickly enough. I suddenly had a idea. My sword levitated out of its sheave with a nearly invisible white sheen. For a second I let it hover over my head, then with a thought sent it spinning like a glaive towards my prey. It arced around his right side, swooping in front of him and cleaving off his right foreleg before coming back around his left. As I easily grabbed the blade out of the air with the elbow of my foreleg, Crossroads tumbled to the asphalt with an agonized scream.

I approached the downed unicorn, sword at the ready, as Moriki and Rain Dance struggled to catch up. He looked up at me, terrified and clutching his stump to his chest, as I stood over him. Sweat covered his body, and each breath he drew was short and ragged. His blood left him at an alarming rate, staining most of his fur a deep red.

He stuttered his final word, his voice similar to that of a foal. "P-please…"

I flipped my sword upside-down and plunged it deep through his eye. His body and face relaxed slowly.

"Oh shit," Rain Dance breathlessly commented from behind, trotting up to the scene with Moriki in tow. I didn't dare move, still clutching the handle of the sword imbedded in the skull of a corpse. Moriki put a paw on my shoulder. I flinched, to my mild dismay.

"Kid?" I took a moment to compose myself, though it didn't help at all. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of a panting, heavily bearded earth stallion.

"Shit, what'd I miss?" He quickly took in the mess, and then looked at me."Holy hell kid, did you-?"

"Force!" Rain Dance hissed.

Blunt Force cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, erm...I'll go wait by the carriage." He walked past us, shooting me another glance and immediately tripping over a severed foreleg.

Moriki's grip on my shoulder tightened. "Kid, you still with us?"

I drew in a quick breath. "I'm...okay." That felt...wrong to say. I don't know why. Was I okay? I was just a little rattled…right? "I'm okay."

The Office can be described quite simply: it was a gray box, connected on both sides by identical gray boxes, in a straight line of gray boxes. The street that it was located on was dull and lifeless, almost completely devoid of color. It was a long running joke that if one was to start at one end of the street and walk in a straight line, they would go colorblind before they reached the other.

That was the point, though. Boring and simple avoid curious eyes. Even if you knew what you were looking for, you would probably never find it. There no distinguishable details, no design; almost none of the buildings even had a sign. Even now I found myself subconsciously counting the street lamps as we rolled down the street, just to make sure.

Sparkdrift pulled up to the Office, allowing myself and Hollow to hop out. I put my vest on, trying to keep the pressure off my wound, then swung Negotiation on my back, securing the strap to my chest. I kicked the carriage door shut, and Sparkdrift drove off to park. Opening the door, I was greeted by the scent of printer ink and cheap air freshener, as well as a comfortable indoorsy warmth. It was bright inside, a stark contrast to the lifelessness of the exterior. Cubicles, as one would see in any office building, were set neatly about the perimeter, each housing a desk and computer. Directly in front of us was a larger desk, shaped like a half-circle, occupied by a bored-looking earth pony mare trying to balance a pen on her nose. She gave us a small wave as we passed, which I returned.

Near the back of the building, partially hidden by a cubicle wall, was a rather ordinary wooden door labelled 'Janitorial Supplies'. Opening the door revealed a square closet, just large enough to comfortably fit three ponies. A mop sat in a bucket against a wall, accompanied by several brooms, feather dusters, and a couple of blue jumpsuits hanging from hooks. The opposite wall was shelved and stocked with different bottles of cleaner.

Hollow and I crammed ourselves into the closet, the thestral shutting the door behind us. I waved my hoof in the air for a moment, searching in the darkness for the pull string I knew was there. After ten straight seconds of awkward fumbling, the lightbulb turned on, bathing the tiny room in a dim yellow light. I looked over at Hollow, holding the string in a hoof and wearing an amused smirk, a single fang poking out over her lip.

"Whatever," I muttered. "Damn you and your night vision." I turned my attention to the shelves, placing my hoof on the wall between a bottle of bleach and a box of steel brushes. I applied a little pressure, and the wall compressed slightly with a click. The back wall swung open, revealing a spiral metal staircase.

The Office itself wasn't what we were here for. The Office was a disguise of sorts, a facade. What lay _under_ the office was our destination. Past the hidden door sat a miniature city of concrete and iron, a bunker hidden away from prying eyes. The military grade shelter was built in secret and owned by one of Enterra's most notorious anti-Ministry resistance groups: The Vermillion Uprising.

The Uprising's goal was simple. Remove the Ministry's power and give it to the citizens. A time-consuming, dangerous endeavor that many would consider impossible, but they were dedicated to the task nonetheless.

Hollow and I began our descent, our hooves making the iron stairs rattle noisily. The hidden door closed by itself silently, leaving only a bluish hue from a fluorescent lamp somewhere above us. We circled our way down once, twice, three times before stepping out into a cozy lobby-at least as cozy as a concrete shelter can get. A large rug covered a majority of the floor, soiled with dirt and hoofprints. A doorway at the end of the room opened into a large atrium.

A large desk, much like the secretary's in the Office, sat off to our right, occupied by a red earth pony mare with a mane of a much deeper shade of red. Our entrance alerted her from her paperwork, and she looked up at us with bright purple eyes.

"You're back!" she cheerfully called, a friendly smile working its way on her face. "And you're still in one piece. Er, for the most part." That last part was referring to the mass of white bandages around my shoulder, not very well hidden by my vest.

"Gunshot. Thirty-eight, I think," I said, massaging the wound with a hoof.

"You should get that looked at. Other than that, how'd it go?"

I shrugged. "It got a bit messy, but we pulled through."

"Good to hear. So how's my brother doing?"

"He's alright. He's taken to field work pretty well, I think. He just needs to learn to be more assertive." I finished my sentence with a pointed look at Hollow, who smiled back sheepishly.

Code Red giggled. "Yeah, that's always been his problem. Mom always used to joke that I was born first because he was too shy to tell me to move." She drummed her hooves on the desk. "Anyway, the council called for you."

The Council. The 'Inner Circle' of the Vermillions. What did the higher ups want with me? "They tell you what they want?"

She shook her head. "Nope, just that they're convening and they're expecting you. You've got an hour."

Great. That means more time before I get to sleep. "Thanks, Red. I gotta go get this slug pulled. Talk to you later."

The mare waved to our backs as Hollow and I walked off to the atrium. The circular chamber was of the same light grey concrete as the foyer, with black stone inlays set into the walls. A large mosaic of the same black stone was set into the floor, depicting four outpointing arrows arranged evenly around a hollow circle; the Vermillion Uprising's emblem.

There were three wide exits, one directly across from where we entered and two on each side. Wide stone stairs were located at the left or right walls immediately upon entering, each leading to a walkway that circled each side of the room and ended at the opposite set of stairs. Each walkway acted as a second floor, with several doorways leading into different rooms. People of various species milled about, creating a sort of ambient noise of hooffalls and chatter.

Hollow and I split up, her disappearing through the left exit while I took the right. Alone in the wide and dimly lit hall, I had time to relax. This night had been unnecessarily complicated. Too many deviations, too much excitement, and too many close calls for what should have been a simple assassination. I was almost certain I was going to get an earful from the Director about my encounter with the Hounds, and now with the Council calling for me there was little chance I was getting any sleep tonight.

A sharp pain from my shoulder brought me back to alertness. The longer I walked, the more my gunshot wound ached, and even now a bit of red was seeping through the bandages. I rubbed the area gently, making a beeline for a nearby door marked 'Infirmary.' I didn't bother knocking, I just opened the door. The inside was pretty standard; two rows of medical beds filled one side of the large room, some occupied. A unicorn in surgical attire took note of my entrance with no small amount of complaint.

"Ech, just what I needed, the friggin' albino. Whadja do this time, Shad? Stub your toe?" She approached me stiffly, eyebrow raised in apparent annoyance. A white jumpsuit covered most of her salmon-hued coat, leaving her head and tail exposed, and a surgical mask obscured her muzzle. Her eyes were a pale green, the left ringed by a splotch of beige fur that matched her mane and tail. Her mane was swept back, with a few errant strands hanging over her forehead.

"Nice to see you too, Cross Stitch." I answered with a roll of my eyes. I removed my vest, fully exposing the mess of bandages. "There's a bullet buried in my shoulder, can you get it out?"

Cross Stitch eyed the bandages around my shoulder sceptically for a second before snorting. "Nice wrap job, Ace."

I scowled. "I was a little busy at the moment."

"Yeah, yeah. C'mere." She led me over to an unoccupied bed and motioned for me to sit. Once I was situated she began pulling the reddening bandages off with her magic. They floated away, dropping into a waste bin nearby along with the bloodsoaked cloth that was underneath. A pair of forceps floated up from somewhere in her suit, and she began prodding the bleeding wound with them.

"Well, the good news is the bullet's still in one piece," she spoke, after several seconds of painful poking. The forceps sank further into my flesh as she fished around for the lead projectile. I had to bite my tongue to keep from jerking away and making the situation worse.

"Wouldn't this be easier if you just used magic to grab the bullet?" I asked. Cross scoffed through her mask.

"Not everyone's magic is as finely tuned as yours, ya know. I may as well try to pull it out with my bare hooves."

"...Fair point." A sharp pain radiated from my shoulder as she twisted the forceps, and I bit back a grunt.

"Got it," she said, slowly withdrawing the surgical tweezers. They finally pulled free, a warped, bloody hunk of metal grasped between the prongs. The pressure in my shoulder immediately decreased significantly as a miniature torrent of blood flowed from the wound. Cross Stitch quickly threw the bullet in the trash, then levitated a gauze pad from the metal cart next to the bed and and began wiping me off with it.

"What's the damage?" I asked.

"Not bad. It's small enough to seal up with magic, won't even leave a scar." Her horn began glowing, though instead of the undulating lime aura that accompanied her levitation, it shone with a solid bice green. I felt a burning sensation as the wound was surrounded by a mist-like sheen of the same hue. "Alright, this should take all of ten minutes. Just sit tight."

She hopped up on the bed next to mine, sitting so that she was facing me. "How'd it happen this time?"

"Car chase with a Hound patrol," I answered, resisting the urge to rub my shoulder. The spell she was using was making the whole area burn and itch.

"Ugh, you field ponies get all the fun," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "Car chase? Really?"

"It was not as fun as it sounds." Cross swatted my hoof away as I unconsciously reached to scratch the injury.

"How the frick did you outrun a Hound patrol?" The gauze pad returned, removing a bit of blood that was dribbling from the sealing hole.

I shrugged. "When Sparkdrift is driving, just about anything is possible."

"That crazy featherhead's still allowed to drive? Figger'd her license'd be hanging on her parole officer's wall by now."

"She knows what she's doing," I commented with an uncomfortable shrug. "Most of the time, at least." I went to scratch again, only for her to smack my hoof away a second time.

"Quit that!" she barked.

"Why?" I complained irritably. "This shit burns like hell! It feels like someone's sticking me with a cigarette! What's the problem?"

"Your hooves are friggin' filthy!" she snapped, pointing to one of my admittedly dirty hooves. "Anything that gets in there will stick to this spell like glue, and then it'll be worse off than it was before!"

I froze as I digested this information. "Wait, really?"

Cross cocked an eyebrow at me. "You don't know a whole lot about medical magic, do you?"

"I kill things. Healing normally doesn't factor into that."

"...Fair point."

Minutes later, the spell finished, the only sign that I was ever shot being a circle of hairless pink skin. Cross Stitch's horn stopped glowing, the green aura disappearing off the tip with a small hiss. Both the tip of her horn and the newly healed skin were steaming slightly. I rolled my shoulder around, feeling for any lingering discomfort.

"Thanks, Cross," I spoke, satisfied with the results. The unicorn hopped off the bed and began walking away.

"Don't mention it," she called grumpily over her shoulder. "Try to be more careful next time, you white git."

I chuckled under my breath, hopping onto my hooves and shaking my limbs out. I left the way I came, pushing the door open and walking into the stale air of the dimly lit hall. There was still a good forty minutes or so until the Council needed me, so I figured a shower was in order. New goal in mind, I set off to my personal quarters, nodding and waving to those who bothered to greet me, while at the same time ignoring the glares and unsure glances of others.

I was well aware of my standing in the Uprising, and frankly I understood it. Nothing good ever came out of Orchidae Labs. The Ministry had me in their claws for little over four years, and that alone earned me plenty of mistrust. I was glad for those who did accept me, though there was still plenty of resentment towards me that landed just shy of blatant harassment.

A trio of ponies that were chatting off to the side quieted when I approached, none-too-subtly ogling me as I passed. The smallest of the three, a pegasus filly who appeared to be only a couple years younger than I, seemed particularly tense, and even frightened when I glanced back. Feeling a bit mischievous, I held her stare with an impassive one of my own without breaking my stride. I jerked forward a bit to adjust my sword's strap to a more comfortable position on my back, causing her to flinch slightly. I held back a grin, only looking away once I passed. Predictably, the conversation picked up again shortly after.

"He really scares me…"

"Eh, just ignore him and he'll leave you alone."

"Ugh, there's something seriously wrong with that pony."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know where he came from, don't you? How anything so close to the Ministry can waltz in here and act like nothing's wrong is beyond me."

"Dontcha think you're being a little harsh? He's pretty weird, but at least he's not, like, eating babies or stealing our mares or whatever."

"Wait, um, where _did_ he come from?"

"...I'll tell you later, it's kinda-sorta supposed to be a secret." I rolled my eyes as I moved out of earshot. As far as 'resentment' goes, gossip was relatively mild. It was annoying and juvenile, but as long as it didn't affect me, I couldn't care less.

I arrived at my room shortly after, stopping in front of the gunmetal gray iron door with a shallow sigh of relief. I placed my hoof on the number dial below the door handle, quickly twisting it to the right, back a bit to the left, then several notches more to the right. The lock accepted the combination with a nearly inaudible click, allowing me to pull the door open.

My quarters were remarkably simple, due mostly to an innate dislike of clutter, and because I didn't have much in the way of personal belongings. A couple of mattresses in the far corner served as my bed, sheets strewn haphazardously halfway onto the floor where I had left them thirty-some hours ago. A small end table sat beside it, bearing a desk lamp and an alarm clock, which happily informed me that the time was two-fourteen. A dull green, suede couch sat against the wall to my right, next to the door to the bathroom, accompanied by an old wooden coffee table holding a small stack of books.

The only form of decoration I had was a painting that hung in the middle of the far wall, an abstract piece depicting both the sun and the moon in opposite corners of the canvas. The moon sat in a starry, bluish-black void, accented by thick, swirling lines of violet, green and blue, while the sun was surrounded by a medley of red, orange, yellow, and pink. As the sides neared each other, the colors separated into tendrils that twisted around their contrasting counterparts, connecting both day and night. The areas that were untouched by the tentacles of color were made to look like eyes, pinning the observer with their blank gaze. The piece was a gift, given to me shortly after my induction into the Uprising by one of the few ponies I could call a friend.

I shrugged off my sword and placed it on the table before heading into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. It's not like anyone could get in anyway. Standing in front of the sink, I gave my rather plain features a quick look over in the mirror. My shaggy, shoulder-length mane was the same vibrant snow-white as my coat, a trait that has earned me nicknames like 'Albino' and 'Snowball', as well as more than a few second glances from curious passersby. At the moment they were both stained with dried blood that streaked my hair and speckled my face and neck with reddish-brown spots, looking more like dirt than blood.

I unconsciously stepped a bit to the side, exposing my flank to the mirror. A thin, black, vertical oval inside another, larger and horizontal oval served as my mark, separated by a circle the color of my coat. The innermost shape was just large enough to touch the top and bottom of the circle, while the circle was just large enough to touch the outermost oval. My mark was an eye, complete with a slit pupil..

And then my own eyes, the only proof I had that I wasn't cut straight out of an old black-and-white photograph. As a matter of fact, they were even more out of place than my coat and mane. My right eye was a fiery amber, while the left was a cold grayish-blue. I've been told that the difference did interesting things with my expressions; one of my favorite comments to date is 'I'm not sure if you're angry or reading my mind to find out what my deepest fears are.'

Realizing that I had been standing there staring in the mirror for about a minute straight, I shook my head and stepped into the shower, turning the knob with a hoof. The showerhead sputtered several times before drenching me in cold water, causing me to jump in shock. After several seconds of shivering, the water began heating up, allowing me to relax as it cleaned the blood out of my fur. Even after the water ran clear again, I remained inside, slumping against the wall in a sluggish heap. After the night's ordeal, it was nice to just sit for a minute, even though I had to be up and moving again in less than half an hour.

Looking down at my chest, I ran a hoof over the black fur that made up the portal-like symbol over my heart. The symbol was a black ring, smooth on the inside, but covered in undulating points on the outside, like ebony flames. Inside was another ring, this one consisting of strange, runic glyphs, which, to this day, I have never been able to decypher. The symbol was so perfect it could have been a second Mark. My heart felt like it skipped a beat, as if responding to my touch.

"I can free you," I muttered, parroting the stallion I had dealt with earlier. "How can I be freed? Is there something I don't know?"

I lifted my hoof from my chest to my forehead and dragged it down my face, as if peeling off a mask of fatigue and confusion. "What am I missing?"

Shortly after my long and satisfying soak, I heard a knock at my door. Opening it revealed nothing. Looking up revealed a purple face, inches away from my own. I stared at it, unamused.

"Uhhhh...boo?" At least she tried.

"Evening, Uvie." The unicorn scoffed and jumped off the wall, landing deftly on her hooves in front of me. Her horn and hooves stopped glowing. She had a deep purple coat, and a mane that was such a light shade of lavender that it almost matched mine. Her eyes were an icy cerulean that contradicted the mischievous warmth that they currently shined with. Her Mark was a single white star, with ripples of energy emanating from it. A black scarf was draped around her neck, the ends hanging down the front. It was the only article of clothing she wore, like, ever. I don't understand how she never gets hurt.

"You're impossible to scare nowadays."

"I was never easy to scare. I was a trainwreck when I first arrived here and you took advantage of that."

She flipped her lavender hair and scowled in mock anger...or real anger, it was always impossible to tell. "I did no such thing, I was merely testing your combatative reflexes. Psychological distress is no excuse for weakness. What if we were under attack and I was an actual enemy?"

"Then I would have died, because I had little combat experience and stand out like a canary at a gryphon orgy."

Her eyes narrowed. "Wrong answer."

I rolled my eyes at her antics, not wanting to argue. "Any particular reason you're bothering me?"

Her eyes widened and she did a little dance, like she always does when she realizes there was something important she was supposed to be doing instead of annoying me. "Oh yeah! I'm here to make sure you make it to the meeting. The Council ca-"

"Called for me, yes. I'm aware."

"Well, it's in ten minutes. I'm just making sure you don't sleep through it...again." Oh shit. Guess my shower was longer than I thought. Uvie must have noticed my surprise, because she smiled. "C'mon, I'll walk with you."

"Yeah, fine." As we started walking, a wave of fatigue overcame me, and I yawned. "Sleep sounds really good right now, though."

"Later, Snow. The Director said this was pretty urgent."

"Still the question remains, what the hell do they want with me?" I inquired, ignoring the nickname. She was one of the only people that could get away with it, and she knew it. Somehow, it wasn't nearly as irritating coming from her.

"I dunno. My guess is you're being issued some kind of important assignment."

"Or an impossible suicide mission. Maybe the Director finally has an excuse to get rid of me." It was supposed to be a joke, but even I was surprised at how cynical it sounded. I am _not_ that angsty.

"Come on, Snow. He's a jerk, but he's not a sociopath."

"He kinda is. Remember when he tried to starve me out for a month? He would've succeeded if it wasn't for you and Xrena."

"Well, if you remember, no one trusted you back then." She quickly shook her head. "Not that I'm justifying his actions. I'm just saying, nobody knew how to act around you. You would be perfectly fine one minute, and then trying to bite people's hooves off the next!"

"He's still an asshole."

"He's just doing his job!"

"Poorly."

Uvie sighed in frustration. "Okay, you win, it's a suicide mission. We'll get the funeral arranged. It was nice knowing you."

A grin tried to work its way onto my face, but I fought it off. "Chill out, it was supposed to be a joke."

"Well, you need to work on your humor," she huffed, "or your self-esteem. You sounded like a whiny teenager."

I scowled. "I don't have a problem with my self-esteem. I have a problem with the Director." Uvie just laughed.

We exited back into the atrium and headed straight for the middle entrance. Unlike the dormitory branch, none of the doors in the central hallway had combination locks. Any of the doors in here that were locked needed keys. Our destination was seven doors down and on the left, a room that was slightly larger than my own quarters, often used for conferences, like the one I was being forced to attend. Uvie opened the door and walked in, holding it so I could slip in behind her. The room was actually pretty well-lit, as opposed to the dim fluorescent lighting that was present in most of the bunker. There was a circular table in the center of the room, already occupied by four other figures.

On the far end, directly across from the door, sat a brown earth pony. His long mane was lime green, marred by streaks of gray and tied back into a ponytail. He had an exceptionally long beard, tied into a thin braid that hung over his hooves, which were casually resting on the table. His kindly jade eyes twinkled when we entered, accompanied by a faint, but friendly smile. Grasswick was easily one of my favorite Council members, primarily because he gave me the least amount of trouble.

On his right sat a violently pink mare with a black mane. She was heavily scarred on the left side of her face, as well as her shoulder and some of her foreleg. Her eye on that side was milky white and partially closed, though her good eye was light blue and fully alert. She held almost no expression whatsoever. Bubblegum always intrigued me. Funny name, tough as nails. I've been on a couple assignments with her; she fights like a demon and isn't much of a conversationalist. It's a shame the Council takes up so much of her time.

Next to her was a young gryphoness. Her coat was a vibrant gold, clashing with the bluish-white of the feathers covering her head and neck. Her crest feathers were speckled with the same gold as her fur, and were swept back against her scalp. Her emerald eyes were wide and curious, and she kept her talons clasped politely in her lap. I didn't know a whole lot about Savannah, only that she trusted me about as far as she could throw me. Not that, that was anything new to me.

Across from her, on our left, sat the bane of my existence for the past few years. The Director was a pale blue pegasus with a short chestnut mane and a bad case of five o'clock shadow that was seemingly permanent; I often joked to myself that even his razor hated him as much I did. He was pretty average as far as equine features go, all that was worth mentioning about him was that he had a sour temper and was currently channeling it on me, in the form of a disapproving glare. Which meant he was already pissed at me for something. Awesome.

Grasswick cleared his throat and spoke, "Newcomers, if you would state your names and designations."

Uvie went first. "Councilor Ultraviolet. Field Coordination, Reconnaissance and Informations Gathering."

And then everyone's attention was on me. "Field Leader Shadow Chaser. Infiltration, Close Quarters Expert, High-Value Target Elimination."

Grasswick bobbed his head in approval. "Very good. Have a seat, and we can get started." I pulled out the seat closest to me, while Uvie walked over to sit between The Director and Grasswick. "Right, I'll get right down to it. It appears we have a situation in Pewter District. Our mole in House Whiteburn, Rattail, has apparently found a better benefactor and is planning to buy their favor with information. More specifically, our information. To make matters worse, he has deliberately sold out one of our runners to Whiteburn."

"Bloody coward," Bubblegum commented irritably.

Grasswick nodded. "We don't have the name of the benefactor yet, but we need to get to him before he can do anymore damage, as well as find someone to take his place."

"And that's where I come in," Uvie announced. "We're obviously on a bit of a tight schedule here, and we can't afford to waste our time on someone with loose lips and looser loyalties. We made that mistake with Rattail and we can't afford to make it again." A murmur of agreement was heard around the table, while I just smirked at the knowing glint in Uvie's eyes; she had a plan.

"So I did some snooping around, dug up some dirt on Whiteburn's employees. Turns out they recently had a new hire, a mare by the name of River Lily. Unicorn, twenty-eight years of age, no known connections other than an estranged sibling and an anonymous character with whom she meets regularly. She's small, quiet, and apparently has some history in acting. If her resume is anything to go by, the Ministry hasn't done her any favors, either."

The gryphon hummed in thought. "She sounds adequate. Will this anonymous person be a liability?"

Uvie shook her head. "Based on their interactions, I'd say they're either lovers or very good friends."

"Well, I'm sold," Bubblegum stated, crossing her forelegs behind her head. I could tell she wanted to be here about as much as I did.

"Wait, I haven't told you the best part," Uvie continued with a smirk. "She's working as a servant in Whiteburn's very own estate. We can't get any closer than this."

I rubbed my chin before adding my own thoughts. "Sounds like we can't afford _not_ to hire her."

"So all we need to do is convince her to be our inside agent," Grasswick mused, pulling on his braided beard. He turned to the lavender mare. "Very well done, Violet."

She accepted the praise with a smile. "Thank you, Grasswick."

The Director, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up. "Then our next issue would be our lost informant. Unfortunately, we have no news on his whereabouts, so we can only assume that he either been imprisoned, or killed. We have to consider options for a replacement."

He paused for a moment, observing the expressions around the table. Seemingly satisfied, he continued. "I would personally like to nominate Tiptoe."

Tiptoe was the filly that was talking in the hallway. The filly that _jumped_ when I shifted my weight.

"Whoa, no," I forced myself to intervene. Immediately all eyes were on me, The Director's frustrated, Bubblegum's neutral and the others confused. "That's a bad idea," I stated firmly, fully aware that I was quickly digging my own grave.

Savannah blinked, then spoke softly. "Elaborate." Her eyes now held a steeliness that wasn't present when I walked in. Apparently she didn't like me speaking out of turn. She was trying to intimidate me. She was going to need to try harder than that.

"I'll admit that Tiptoe is fast, probably faster than anyone we have here. But she's far too skittish for this kind of job. She's not suited to be a runner."

"So you're saying she's weak." The Director's voice caused my temper to flare, and I turned to see his smug expression, forelegs crossed, eyebrows raised slightly and a corner of his mouth slightly upturned. He was expecting me to back down, apologize for my rudeness and sit here quietly for the rest of the meeting. Not gonna happen.

"As a matter of fact, I am." The collective reaction was about what I expected, but no less amusing. The Director rolled his eyes, Grasswick blew an exasperated breath, and Bubblegum's hoof met her forehead. Savannah clacked her beak and Uvie muttered a disappointed '_Damn it, Shadow.'_"

Call someone weak was an obvious insult, on top of the fact that I had just blatantly disrespected the stallion that pretty much ran the Office. I could easily lose face for doing this, as well as the little respect I held within the Council. Damn good thing I knew exactly what I was doing.

"Just hear me out. Tiptoe has all the physical requirements for the job, but not the mental. She needs to be quick and stealthy, but she needs to be firm and assertive as well. What if she gets caught? She needs to know how to get out of that situation on her own, because chances are she won't have any backup."

"The point of a runner is to _not_ get caught," the Director growled.

"We can't ignore the possibility," I argued, keeping the anger out of my voice. If I showed any open resentment to the cyan stallion, I would lose this fight. "She doesn't have the nerve to be an informant. She'll freeze up if you _look_ at her wrong. What do you think will happen if you put her out on the field? She gets caught, she'll crack like an egg."

I could see the Council members mulling over my words. Uvie turned to the Director. "He's got a point, Sky."

Yeah, that was all I knew of his real name, and only because Uvie and Grasswick were the only people who ever called him by it. I've never bothered learning the rest. Until he started showing me more respect, he would never make it past 'The Director' with me.

The stallion in question sighed through his nose, but nodded. He was an ass, but at least he was rational.

"She needs conditioning," I continued. "Stick her with a team working smalltime recon assignments so she can get a feel for the business, then have her work her way up. With a little pressure she'll develop thick enough skin for solo work."

Grasswick chuckled. "Perhaps we haven't given you enough credit, Shadow."

I smiled faintly. Grasswick didn't just dole out compliments-or apologies-but he wasn't stingy with them either. If he gave one or another, it was most likely deserved. It was one of the things I liked the most about him; he was openly honest, and unendingly polite...until a given situation necessitated the contrary. I've seen him angry...it's not a pretty sight.

"No worries," I said, accepting the praise in stride.

The older stallion nodded graciously. "Who would you suggest, until then?"

I thought for a moment, and the answer came to me quickly. "Rumont."

"The _drunken gryphon_?" The Director's sneer was evident in his tone.

I nodded. "He's not as fast, but he's an excellent navigator and could scam a Hound out of his uniform. The alcohol won't be a problem, he can drop habits at the drop of a hat. There's a reason they call him the 'Cold Turkey.'"

Grasswick tugged on his beard again. "Then if there are no further arguments, the matter is settled." Surprisingly, the Director offered no rebuttal. "Fantastic. We have one more issue to go over. Shadow, I'm sure you've surmised why you're here tonight."

I nodded shortly. "Taking care of Rattail seems simple enough. Is he still skulking around the estate?"

"He is," Uvie cut in, "and I believe this is an opportunity for us to kill two birds with one stone."

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to recruit the new blood, too? I'm not much of a negotiator."

"I'm aware," she replied, smirking at me. "You didn't think you were going alone, did you?"

I was sure she already knew that was more or less my plan, but argued my point anyway. "It would be a lot easier if I did. I was probably going to have Hollow tag along, but that's it. You sure about this?"

"I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think you could handle it." I stared back at her, pondering the situation laid out before me. She was grinning smugly, but not unkindly, and with an air of confidence. Confidence in her decision, and in me. I was being sent out into dangerous territory on a two-part assignment, with more people than I was happy with. More people meant more to keep track of, and it also increased the chance of being caught. But Uvie wasn't stupid; she knew my limitations. She just liked to test them, having faith that I would pull through in the end. I suppose it was something of a game for us, as well as a way for me to keep on my toes. Her faith was refreshing, it was something I was hard pressed to come by these days.

She must have had this planned as soon as Grasswick brought up the issue of Rattail. She's quick enough to pull something together like that. Otherwise, she already knew from the start and lied to keep me from turning tail and heading straight for bed, knowing there was a chance I would turn it down. I wouldn't put it past her, she's still a Councillor, after all.

I wasn't too worried though. As long as I had Hollow, this assignment shouldn't be too troublesome. She was my go-to for stealth jobs and break ins, for obvious reasons. If she didn't want to get caught, she wouldn't get caught. I just needed to make sure she stayed focused.

I blew a forceful breath from the side of my mouth and nodded. "Okay. I accept."

Uvie's all-business demeanor faltered for a moment as she smiled gleefully. "Awesome! I'll go ahead and brief Hollow when I get the chance, and figure out who's going to accompany you for the portion of the job that involves River Lily. I have a few people on mind that would be-"

"I will go," Savannah interrupted, blinking at the handful of surprised stares it earned her. Even Grasswick raised an eyebrow. "I mean, if that's alright with you," she added, with a nod to the purple mare. It bothered me slightly that she didn't even bother asking me.

"Um, of course!" Ultraviolet replied, shaking off her bemusement. "But may I ask why?"

"I'm familiar with Pewter District's layout. I used to live there. There are a lot of relatively hidden detours we can take that will make travelling unseen far easier."

"Well, that's better than what I had in mind...thank you, Savannah."

I was aware that personal preferences did not take priority in situations like this, but I was seriously a little upset that I wasn't going to have a say in this.

"Seeing as everything is settled," Grasswick announced, "it's time we called this meeting to a close. Shadow, I'm sure you're aware of how important this assignment is." I nodded stiffly. "Good. I trust that you can pull this off without a hitch. I want you and your team out there in twenty-four hours. You are all dismissed."

At that, everyone got up to leave, leaving Ultraviolet, myself and, unfortunately, the Director remaining at the table. I was halfway out of my seat when the jackass spoke.

"Sit, Shadow. I need to talk to you." _Of course you do._

I lowered myself back down reluctantly. "Then talk." Uvie eyed us warily, probably waiting to see if she needed to step in.

"I need your report on Garnet Scroll." Hopefully that was all. I was exhausted, and dealing with him was a good way to drain my patience.

"Assuming room temperature as we speak. It was messy, so hopefully the message was sent."

"According to Code Red, your assignment was completed at roughly o-two hundred hours, while your deadline was two hours prior. I need an explanation."

I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering that I had promised Hollow I wouldn't throw her under the bus. "There was an error in communication. Code Blue was send to the wrong bar, but we found him." I hesitated. "And...we may have been involved in a car chase."

His eyes narrowed. "_What?_"

"Hounds. They set up a blockade, we ran into it, someone recognized me, we had to make a run for it."

"How were you _recognized_?"

Already I could feel my heart itching. "It was someone I knew from...before."

"From before? Before when?" the Director demanded.

"Before I came _here_." The labs were the last thing I wanted to talk about, least of all to him.

"Sky," Uvie warned before he could grill me farther. She turned to me, looking slightly concerned. "This isn't going to cause issues, is it, Snow?"

I shook my head. "I clocked him in the face pretty hard. He definitely has a concussion and I doubt he remembers what happened."

"That remains to be seen," the Director stated, glaring at me as he stood. He walked out of the room, talking at me over his shoulder. "Don't let it happen again."

That more or less summed up about eighty percent of our conversations. Uvie gave me an awkwardly apologetic grimace as we both stood to leave. "I'm going to bed," I said sourly, running a hoof through my messy mane.

"I'll get your team organized. Night, Snow."

"Later." We parted ways back in the hall, and I stalked grumpily back to my quarters.

It's been a hell of a night.


End file.
